Wrong Actions
by Colors of Music
Summary: The enemy of my enemy is a myth. Just a little something off the charts, a story rolling around in my head.


**Originally I took this down just because I thought "who'd want to read this?" but have recently re-posted because "what the heck, I spent time on it." So enjoy!**

**I just really wanted to write something off the charts. And I wanted to write a demon. That was the equation, so here's the sum of it! I apologize beforehand for any wrong terminology.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to the respective companies. I own only the plot of this story and my OC.**

There was no redemption for monsters. Cold blooded murderers. Even black holes seemed shallow compared to the pit of darkness where sparks used to reside. Only now could I see the red ledger dripping from their eyes. Former thoughts of mercy and hope shattered like glass balls thrown against concrete reality.

I stare down into my clutched hands, analyzing but not seeing the deep ridges, scars and nicks that made them up. Shoulders drawn forward, hunched, tense. A single tap could undue me, could cause my wires to snap and draw blood. If I had it in me, I would have been trembling, shaking a mile radius with my rage, my bewilderment-

_My sorrow._

Too much sits in my processor, awaiting final turnover, waiting for me to go through with a fine toothed comb. But first, I must deal with the current sludge clogging up my nodes, my electrical synapsis. True to its name, slowly, agonizingly, it trails through me, from my heavy, muted processor, through my stiff neck, down my strong arms and into my capable hands, twisting them into fists, knives, guns, and then back to now calm digits. Down my chest, turning my spark to lead, almost diminishing it, and then immobilizing my legs, my pedes, causing me to fall heavily onto a crate, splintering it.

Now, I am shivering. How is it possible to go from red hot rage to blistering cold numbness in a few seconds? Shock, as it is broken down by my stumbling processor, gives way to these new feelings, as my anesthesia is haltingly drained. I do not wish to feel these emotions, so dangerous have they been throughout the ages – yet I have always managed to fight them off.

Now, I am no longer sure that is an option.

**:Prime?: **Gradually, I come to the realization I am being spoken to on multiple lines; worry, hesitation and sorrow evident in them all. And an emotion I myself am coming to welcome –

_Rage._

**:Slaggit, Prime. We need you:**

** :As did ****_they:_** I finally reply over public comm. The prodding stops, all lines having gone silent. I repeat the sentence once more, standing as I do so, focus finally coming back to my before dulled optics.

There is a moment of silence before I am answered. **:Optimus, what- … What do we do now?:**

I feel my facial features pull into a tight frown as I think; now standing over my soldiers who watch me warily. Something showing in my optics has them scared, and it would have me was well had I stopped to process it. Finally, I feel my frown curl into a scowl. **:I do not know:**

Suddenly, there's the sound of heavy footfalls upon metal behind me, and I turn to face the human soldiers who were climbing up the catwalk. When we can finally see optic to eye, they stop, and I almost pity the sorrow that lay upon their faces, like a heavy shroud they are too weak to wear. But remembering why the shroud must even exist, I feel any and all pity in me vanish.

"Optimus-" the higher ranking man in front of, and slightly below me, begins, choking to a stop as I hold a slightly trembling hand up.

"Major Lennox, do not speak. Your condolences will not be welcome among us, I am afraid."

"Optimus-" he starts again, only to cut himself off, uncertainty in his eyes.

"You should go home as your men have, Major. This tragedy is one my soldiers and I must deal with alone."

"No, Optimus, we can't do that. What happened, no one should have to-" I cut off the other man a little more sharply than expected.

"Sargent Epps, if you respect me, you will do nothing. This is a Cybertronian disgrace, and will be dealt with as such. Not as an advantage to this war, nor a justifiable cause for you humans to help with. Now please, leave. My soldiers and I have much to discuss." Cold. Ruthless. Out of character. I could see the wariness reflected in their own faces, shock almost as equally distributed. But I had no patience, no anesthesia left to deal diplomatically with the situation.

Now was a time for action. For justifiable rage to take hold and lead.

And as I watch the two humans hesitatingly retreat, I realize, for the third time since becoming Prime, I was letting my rage decide the course of action we were about to embark upon. Once they have finally departed through the hanger doors, I turn, looking into the faces of each of my mechs one by one.

In Ratchet, there is a heavy pain, and dark uncertainty.

With Ironhide, a deeper emotion rules, him feeling perhaps even more attached to the tragedy than I. Ruthlessness is alight in his optics.

Bumblebee, I can tell, is letting denial rule, fear stark on his strained face plates.

Sideswipe and Jolt, the two newest additions, seem numb, uncomprehending, as I had been only minutes ago. _Soon, they will come to realize how real this all is. Primus help them. Primus help us all._

"Prime, what do we do?" Ratchet echoes, fixating his optics on my own. My own narrow, vents puff, my scowl reemerges, making him flinch only slightly.

"This cannot go unpunished. We should offline them all, _tonight_. Blow them all to Pit!" Ironhide growls, his canons flexing, charged. We fall into contemplative silence, I myself imagining terrible punishment after punishment, none seeming worse enough for the Decepticon's crime of the millennia.

_"What kind of- monsters- would do- such a -_…" Bee stops, trying to find the right word, before speaking in his own scratchy tone, "monstrosity?"

"Fragging 'Cons, that's who. Prime, let us leave now. We cannot let them get away with what they have done!"

"You think I will let them live after this?" I clip back, barring my denta. "If you believe me to be so merciful after such an act of betrayal to our race, then you have forgotten who I am, Ironhide." We are interrupted by a quivering voice.

"T-t-the sparklings." The four of us turn towards Jolt who is shaking uncontrollably, metal rattling all over his frame. "Th-th-th-they _offlined _al-all-all of the-them. Why-why? Wh-what _motive di-d-did th-they have? __**Wh-what did th-th-they GAIN?**_" Swiftly, Ratchet steps forward, darting out his hands, one pulling down and temporarily steadying the now furious mech's arm, the other administering a shot full of some sort of liquid, most likely an anesthetic as Jolt was quickly calming down, close to the point of offlining into recharge. Once he finally stops shaking, all optics turn towards me as I stride forward, placing my hands upon Jolt's shoulders.

"Their gain is this – an uncontrollable enemy. They do the unthinkable, believing the shock will rip us apart." I stop until I am sure I have all of their undivided attention. Although I am still only looking at Jolt, I am speaking to them all. "But they have severely miscalculated." I pause, my hand flexing closed, adding pressure to his armor to make my point. "Indeed, they have shocked us. Indeed, they won the battle. However," I stand to my full height, turning my sight towards the high windows, out into the onyx night. "If it is an uncontrollable enemy they want," I feel something white hot flash through me, steeling my spark and sealing my determination, "then an uncontrollable enemy they shall receive."

* * *

**_Three days later_**

The dawn has yet to break over the horizon. Stars still dot the violet-black sky, the moon a distant witness to our actions. Soldiers still sleep in their barracks; a chilly breeze stirs frostbitten leaves. Snow has gathered in drifts around the hanger, and in hills around our circle.

Before the Autobots and I lay painted runes – a devil's trap plucked from dusty library books. It is to act as both a holding pen and welcoming mat.

It has been three days since the offlining of nearly a thousand Cybertronian sparklings. Three days since the Autobots and I vowed to bring damnation down upon the Decepticons with our own hands. Three days of scouring the internet and dark, musty library rooms for a hint of an answer to our question – _how can we become a controlled, uncontrollable enemy? _

Yesterday, the answer arrived.

Mythological? Yes.

Powerful? Immensely so.

Controllable? Perhaps.

Possible?

We are about to find out.

"Ratchet, do you even know what you're doing?" Ironhide shifted uncomfortably on the icy tarmac, looking towards the studious medic.

"Ironhide, I will weld your helm to your aft if you ask me that question one more time. Yes, I have a good grip on what _we _are doing. Am I positive it will work? No, not at all. Am I still going to do it? Yes, because Primus help me, those 'Cons will pay for every Energon drop spilled that day."

Quietly we stand, waiting for him to wrap up the final bits to the… experiment, I must call it, for better lack of a word.

Finally, with a deep grunt, Ratchet's eyes glow to their full capacity once again, letting me know he has finished up the last part of research.

And then, he begins to speak.

Steadily, unwaveringly, he repeats the supposed calling in ancient Latin, and, one by one, we play our part, placing our small cups of Energon (our blood) upon the points Ratchet had earlier indicated. Finally, after a few minutes, he stops, the chant over, our offerings placed.

And we wait. For how long, I cannot tell. The only keeping of time done with the howling of the wind, and the slowly awakening sky, and I think, perhaps today would have been beautiful, perhaps today I would have stood just outside the hanger, my family still recharging, looked upon this world's glorious awakening, and still believed in hope for the future.

I clench my hands as I shove the image away.

Hope cannot exist when wolves are out for blood.

"What was that?" The sudden exclamation has me riveted back to the present. Suddenly, there is a flicker. "Ratchet!"

"I haven't done this before, I don't know, Ironhide!" Again, and again, the flickers pick up their pace, lengthening into tears that are suspended midair, before melting into a moving shadow. All around us, the wind picks up, the howling coming from both it and the massive shadow. Overhead, the soft violet and rose of dawn vanishes, replaced by copper red and rusted brown. The ground trembles, splits, and from the cracks unbearable grinding and screeching emanates, causing many of us to throw our hands to our sound processers, vainly attempting to cut off the noise.

And then, with an almost missable _click _it stops. Everything is held, suspended, before crashing back into the present. I shut my optics as the world around me flashes a multitude of reds and blacks.

The wind dies down to a weak air push, birds are once more chirping in the branches of silent trees. I crack my optics open and am almost blinded by the white of the snow and the early morning pale yellow sun's rays. Eventually, I manage to stand from where I had unknowingly fallen.

Dumbly, I stare at the mass of still leather bone only feet from me. About the size Jazz had been, the creature is broad, muscular, its skin looking like century old leather, with…_ horns_ upon its head of sharp curved bone. And, resting lightly against the tarmac, protruding from its back are four great behemoth wings. Scaly, ridged, hideous, almost twisted charcoal black things.

Suddenly, I realize what it is I am staring at.

It is a demon.

Just as quickly as the realization comes upon me, it must hit the others as well, for gasps and soft whirrs can be heard around the circle. But, before any of us have a chance to look at its face, the thing shimmers, as though it is a mirage, before violently shuddering. Its wings stretch out with a burst of speed, heavily draping themselves around the creature. A few seconds passed before they pull back, only to reveal an entirely different species. And then, it looks up.

The demon has transformed into a human. Pale, jutting facial features, dark unkempt hair, hands curled into claws, and a broad figure now stands before us. Its wings fold against its back as the creature looks up into my eyes, allowing a grin to mar its features. Sharp yellow teeth accompany dark ebony irises, barely contained by the white of its- _his – _eyes.

"You called?"

* * *

"Prime, what- have you _done_?" I cannot look at Lennox, the terror evident in his face almost too much for me to bear.

"What is necessary to end this war once and for all," I reply, folding my arms and steadying my stance. "You have nothing to fear, Major. This creature-"

"The name's Dave."

"-Is fully under our control. He will not harm you."

"Weeeeelll, that part's a little iffy. I mean, I could, you know, if they wanted me to. But currently? Nah, not gonna happen. If I did, they'd all snuff me out faster than a burning candle, and this just ain't fun if I'm not around to see it." Gesturing in front of himself towards the towering mechs, the demon smirks, leaning onto the back legs of his chair, one leg propped up against the catwalk's railing.

Lennox ignores him, instead focusing on me, trying to get me to look him in the eyes. "Optimus, listen to me. These _things -"_

_"The name's Dave."_

_"-_every source you read tells you it doesn't matter if you can control them or not. They don't like to be chained down, _ever. _And they tend to bite the hand that feeds them. Prime," this time, I cannot look away. "You have got to send him back. _Now._ We'll find another way."

Loud chortling startles us both, and we whip our heads towards the offensive sound.

"So, _wait_, you went through all this trouble to bring _me _here to… ah, what was it?" the demon – Dave – cocks his head to the side, grinning viciously, eyes glittering. "Ah, right, to 'righten the wrongs, permanently', and now, before I can even do my job, you're gonna send me home just – hah – just because this puny fleshling _demands_ it of you?" he stands, gesturing his arms widely. "A great _Prime_?" Still smiling, he erupts into a fit of laughter, turning away from us, holding his hand up as he attempts to compose himself.

I feel my facial plates snag into a frown, optics narrowing as I think on what he has said. Indeed, the flattery goes over my head – I do not require such persuasion methods as that. However… "I am afraid he is correct, Major Lennox. We brought him here for a reason, and we are going to see to it that he completes the mission." I cut off Lennox and Epps's protests, venting loudly. "Enough. I have told you we will handle this, and this is the safest course of action-"

"Safest course of- Jesus, Prime! How is sending a _goddamn demon_ into the streets a _safe course of action?"_

"Because it does not require me to sacrifice any more of my soldiers. Or yours, Major." There is a silence as my words settle. A whistle pierces the air.

"He told you, Major. So, you see now? There's nothin' wrong with what the big guy wants, long as he's in control, right? Less deaths for ya'll, more fun for me in the long run, am I right?" His words sit uncomfortably with me, but I dismiss it for the time being.

"You are correct."

"Great!" he claps his hands together, rubbing them in excitement. "So, just one more time. I'm going tooooo…"

I shift so I am facing Dave, and stand a bit straighter, optics to eyes. "Once we have located the Decepticons, you will head directly for them and eliminate any and all Decepticons in the area. The first one you must offline will be a bot by the name of Megatron. The second will be Starscream-" my audio receptors pick up growling at the name behind me, and I send a private message. "Ironhide will provide you with pictures of those you need to offline immediately. After they are taken care of, you may finish off the rest of the threat."

"Unless they throw in the towel, wave a white flag, or what have you, yeah? And what am I to do with them?"

"There will be no prisoners," Ironhide snarls, clenching his fists. When I say nothing in the silence that follows, Lennox and Epps jump forward, demanding answers. But I am only focused on Dave, whose grin simply widens.

"Understood, Captain." I continue, ignoring the other humans' protests.

"If they are not in the current vicinity, eliminate any threats currently posed, but leave a few alive so as to-"

"Get the dibs on where they might be hidin' out and cross check what I'm told. Got it, Chief, don't worry. This ain't my first rodeo."

"Optimus Prime!" My head yanks back of its own accord at the threatening tone in Lennox's voice. "I am disappointed in you," he finally says once the room has quieted down. "I expected the _great Cybertronian leader of __peace __and __freedom_ to find better ways to handle the situation." He stands back from where he had been leaning against the railing. "But I guess I was wrong." His own eyes narrow at me, and he clips out, "If what he just says will not wake you up to what you are doing, then I'm afraid of what will. Prime, I hope you know what you're doing." With a final searching look, he turns on his heel and swiftly leaves, followed by Epps and the other soldiers that had been in the room.

"Aw, don't worry nothin' about him, Chief. He doesn't know what it takes to sacrifice your own sanity for the peace of thousands. He doesn't know what it means to be locked in a stale war that's been at a standstill for a millennia or more." I slightly startle at the feel of air on my face and I turn to see Dave hovering in front of me, powerful black wings whipping up the air around him. I look into his eyes as he gives me a partially somber nod before turning and following Ironhide out onto the tarmac.

I see nothing but a reflection of myself.

* * *

It has been ten hours since Dave set off on the path we laid out for him. Ratchet barely managing to attach a camera on him so we can keep track of his actions.

But I now wonder if we have already lost control.

For the past six hours, I have been thinking. Walking the base grounds, watching the horizon, waiting for news of action.

What if Lennox is correct? In our search to rain destruction down upon our enemy, we bring failure down upon ourselves. What if I am blinding myself to another course of action?

But, no, this is the only way to end the war once and for all with minimal casualties to our side. To unleash a Decepticon among themselves. To let loose a wolverine among wolves.

And what of control? Lennox is heavily against the idea that I can control such a beast. That Dave will find a way to rip control out of our hands and … bite the hand which fed it. If this is true, then perhaps I have set upon us all a greater force of destruction than even Megatron himself.

But nobody has ever before dealt with a demon. Humans believed them to be myths. And they have proven on more than one occasion in their history that they will react with hostility towards what they do not understand. And Dave has assured me control rests in the Autobots' hands.

Can one trust a demon?

How can one answer a question which has never been given an honest answer until now?

And if Dave completes his mission successfully? We will send him back, of course. Immediately. Then there will have to be a cleanup, perhaps a cover up depending on how quietly Dave does this. And what of our rebuilding? Shall we return to Cybertron, or find a new homeland? Stay? Wait for more of our race to arrive? Let them know the war is finally over?

Those will be bridges to cross in the future. For now-

**:Prime, get in here. Something's happening: **Instead of responding, I turn and run back towards the base, finding myself further out than I originally thought I was.

In no time at all, I arrive in the hanger and stride purposefully over towards where my soldiers and many human ones are gathered around a large screen, now streaming video. All that can be seen is desert and a large mountain range.

"It seems he has found them," Ratchet softly mutters to me, just as a jarring screech is heard onscreen.

"Why, hello, hello. How are ya'll this fine evenin'?" The camera shakes slightly as Dave moves forward, though who he is talking to we cannot tell. Clicks and whirrs answer him. "Ai, now, do I come across as bilingual? I mean, I am, but not in your damn language. Mind translatin' honey?" He swings to his right and that's when we see who he's talking to.

Hidden in the sand, camouflaged, are ten Decepticons. At least one of them is a femme. It's impossible to tell who they are, only that they are damaged and wary. Not yet hostile. Their crimson optics stare out defiantly towards the swaggering intruder.

"He said to frag off, fleshling," the femme replies, hissing softly, barely heard over the system. Dave laughs, leaning back because we get a flash of sky before once more coming to rest on the hidden 'Cons.

"That ain't very nice. I asked how ya'll were-"

"Frag off, before we decide you're worth the trouble of a few Autobots."

"Oh, honey, trust me, I'm more trouble than them. Now, before we get down to business, is there a Megatron in the house?" Angry clicks assault him, but he just laughs. "Make this easy on yourselves, is he or isn't he? Simple yes or no question."

"The fraggar abandoned us, tossing us like scrap metal. He isn't here, and we don't give a slag where he currently is residing. Now, _good day and goodbye."_ But Dave only sighs, once more pacing in front of them.

"Not so fast. He's not here you say? Figures it wouldn't be so easy. But! That's alright; I love a good man-hunt. Or, bot, in your cases," he bends over, inspecting something on the ground before standing again. "Well, that's alright, if you don't know where he is, somebot or other will if not ya'll. So, I'll give you one more chance to tell me where the other Decepticons are before I forcefully take it myself." Silence before uproarious laughter splits the air.

"A _fleshling_ is going to force information out of _us?_ How pitiful. I am tired of your games, human." Suddenly, a spot just to the left of him shifts, sand falling off of the currently standing mech like a waterfall. Just as he steps forward, guns charging, Dave speaks.

"That's good, because I didn't leave Hell to get stuck out in this heat." Abruptly, the camera shoots forward, swerving around and around, blurring much of what is happening.

But you cannot blur sound.

Femme screaming, metal bending with groans and snapping off with yells. Glass shatters, wires snap, rip, tear. Rattles converge into a cacophony of sound before shutting off all at once with a final high pitched shriek.

Heavy breathing makes me feel as though I am going deaf after the barrage of sound. The words currently being spoken almost missed.

"Now, little lady, you wanna tell me where the rest of you… _fraggers _are a'lyin'?" A gasp wrenches out of the femme just off screen.

"You – you _killed _them. All of them… what the _Pit _just happened?"

"Hahaha, oh, you poor defenseless thing. Why, the Autobots happened! They're out for blood. Yeah, ya'll did some pretty dumb things I reckon to get such _nice guys _like them to do _all of this _to you. Well, it's none of my business, except the business part. So, you gonna answer my question or-"

"Africa. That's where Megatron and his cronies are hiding out. I don't know where exactly, but Soundwave does."

"And where 'xactly is this Soundwave?"

"Up there." The smirk is evident in her voice, but I can imagine it being ripped away with Dave's guffaws.

"Ohhh, goody, this'll be _fun_. I can have a little more entertainment up there than down here where you've gotta clean everything up… Well, darlin' it's been fun. But it's time I move on towards bigger and better things."

"Everybody will know of this! I have sent out a message to all Decepticons. They will know of you and what the Autobots have done! Megatron will-" her steadily rising hysterics are sharply cut off with a loud _snap, _followed by the thud of something heavy hitting the ground.

"Good, it's so much more fun to hunt when the prey knows it's going to die."

As soon as he takes to the sky, the camera shuts off, as does audio.

**:Prime, what-:**

** :It is almost over, old friend. The war will be over soon:**

** :… But at what cost?:**

** :Now is not the time to wonder at the morality of our actions. That time has long past:**

** :That ****_time _****will never pass, and you know it, Optimus:**

I do not reply. He already knows my answer.

The beginnings of guilt nag at my spark, but I push it down for just one more day.

* * *

The destruction has only escalated.

I stand at attention alongside almost every bot and human on base, optics and eyes alike riveted to the screen. I see hope and fear etched in the lines of every face. There is no median. I turn to face the screen as cackling emits.

For the past day and night, we have watched as Dave slowly, methodically, _gleefully _took apart the Decepticon forces, borderline toying with them. From the desert rogues to Soundwave, who we had the honor of watching his head float off into space. Different Decepticon factions across the world ripped apart, twisted into unintelligible shapes, crushed, melted, destroyed.

All in one day what we could not do over centuries.

I would be lying if I said it had not terrified me.

And now, the climax. The final battle. While Dave has proven himself more than capable, there is a reason Megatron has stood as long as he has.

But doubts are slowly vanishing as Starscream's wings fly across the screen.

Earlier on, Dave had taken the camera off, positioning it in a tree "so ya'll can watch the show a lil' better". We can see and hear everything. Starscream is barely alive, gushing Energon from his back wounds, missing both his arms. He's screaming in anger, pain… fear. We cannot stop Dave from playing with him; we cannot stop him when he slowly, agonizingly rips Starscream's head off, although destroying his spark would have been faster and more humane.

Dave hovers lightly, watching as Starscream falls ungracefully to the ground, becoming more a heap of metal than Decepticon… than Cybertronian.

And as Dave turns towards the furious final mech, I realize, if we cannot send him back successfully, my Autobots and I would become as Starscream had, and every other Decepticon out there.

A toy.

"Sooo, you're Megsy, huh?" The low drawling voice carries, and Dave easily pushes up with his wings until he is eye to optic with Megatron, who simply growls at him. "Huh, not very literate are we?"

"So you are the pathetic weakling who has torn apart my forces."

"I'm hardly pathetic, or weak, wouldn't yah say?" Dave snorts, flapping closer but still just out of reach. "And less _torn apart,_ more _demolished _them." Surprisingly, Megatron laughs, low and deep. He shifts only slightly out of his former crouching position, still on guard, but more open.

"A worthy warrior to join my noble cause."

"Wow-whee! Didn't know I was this desirable. But what makes you think I would join you and not just stay with the winning side? You're weak, vulnerable, without an army… Or eyes in the sky."

"I won't need an army with you by my side," he growls, slowly extending a claw.

"Whoa buddy, I don't swing that way. Thanks for the offer, but I tend to stay on the _prettier _side of things, and you're one ugly son of a bitch." Metal rubs against metal, creating a shower of sparks as Megatron snaps shut his clawed hand.

"Very well!" he roars. "Then you shall become my trophy!" Swiftly he pulls out his weapon and swings it, catching Dave off guard and smacking him into the ground, where he slides for a couple of meters before catching himself.

"Wow!" he shakes his head side to side. "What an uppercut. But see, I'm not joining you because you're an ugly mother f-er, or because you haven't an army. I'm already a part of one of those, for devil's sake. No, I'm not joining you," he grunts, pushing off with a before masked strength, his fist connecting with Megatron's already wounded side, "because I already have to put up with an abusive dick of a boss!" Megatron stumbles, barely catching himself in time. Bending down, he picks up Starscream's decapitated head and chucks it at Dave, missing by a mile as he swerves to the side with lightning speed. "Now let's make this a little more dominant, yes?" Dropping to the ground with a thud, Dave's wings once again cover his frame. After a few seconds, in which Megatron is almost upon him, they snap out, revealing him to have changed his form back to when we first saw him.

In the moonlight, he was, ultimately, the greater monster of the two.

What followed can hardly be called _entertainment _or _justice. _It is a massacre. Megatron never stood a chance, and I believe he knew this from the beginning, for he fought like a dying animal, right up until the moment he was sliced almost completely in half by Dave's wings.

It only lasted ten minutes.

Silence echoes silence.

The war is over, but there are no sighs of relief, no laughter, no hands clapped to backs.

There are no tears.

Eventually, the pitiful scene is cut off as the battery finally dies in the camera.

"_Is it – over, Captain?" _Bumblebee breaks the silence, hesitatingly.

I do not reply for what seems like many hours, weighing my words against one another. Thought battles thought. "This millennia long war is, indeed, over, Bumblebee." Still, there is no celebratory dance or smiles. Only a heavy dread, which settles upon us like a funeral shroud.

"Optimus," I turn my head to Lennox, who stands rigid beside his men. "You need to send him back immediately." I nod my head, no arguing this time around, and comm Ratchet to get everything set up, assigning the three younger bots to help him, gesturing for Ironhide to stay by me.

"I fear you were right, Major. We have ended the war, but at what price? And I am sorry I did not see it sooner. But I am guilty of letting my emotions cloud my judgment and impede me from making the correct decisions."

There is a heavy sigh as Lennox drops his head, arms crossed, before picking it up again, a tight smile on his face. "I think a lot of us would have done something as equally crazy if it had been human kids. I'm not defending what you did, or saying it was right, but you did the best you could in the heat of the moment. Just, make sure he gets sent back immediately."

"Of course, Major," I nod, before turning and walking towards the hanger doors.

**:Optimus, do you think he will go willingly?:**

** :… I do not know, old friend. I fear his bloodlust has only just begun:**

** :If we can get him in the trap, at least it can act as a holding pen until we sort this out:**

I vent heavily. **:Primus forgive me for what I have done:**

** :He will Prime, as he will us all for doing what we saw as the only way to end greater **

**bloodshed:**

** :I pray you are right:**

* * *

"Well, fellas it's been fun. But my time's a callin'. Glad I could help ya'll out. Just disappointed their sparks won't be headin' for my domain. Coulda had a lot o' fun…" Dave trails off, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Anyways," he quickly continues, "guess it's time to go. Sorry I couldn't have gotten to know you better."

"Wish we could say the same," Lennox grounds out, standing stiffly beside Epps, his own soldiers around him, guns trained on Dave, who only chuckles at him. Then, almost gracefully, he swoops down into the devil's trap, folding his wings once more, arms crossed.

"Dave, I wish to offer the Autobots' thanks for what you have done. You have stopped a long stalemate war," I lean down on one knee.

"Aw, shucks, just doin' my job, Chief. Besides, it was a pretty good alternative to how boring Hell is now-a-days. Man, the entertainment I could have if there were more people like those 'Cons in Hell…" a thoughtful look crosses his face.

"Thank you for your help. And goodbye," I stand, taking up my position between Ironhide and Jolt.

"Yeah. No problem… Alright, mechs!" he suddenly shouts. "Send me home!"

Ratchet begins. We follow through with the steps he outlined for us earlier. And then, he finishes. We are unsure how long we will wait this time, assuming sending someone back is much easier than bringing them here.

Almost immediately, there's a bright flash of smoke, and the ground cracks, sending a few of us stumbling backwards. There's a blur of movement and then all is still. As the smoke clears, we see the trap is broken, white paint splintered almost a yard apart at certain points. But what alleviates our fears is that there is no longer a Dave at the center.

He was gone.

"Oh, thank God," I hear Epps mutter behind me as a few soldiers cheer.

"Iiiii wouldn't thank that asshole _jusssttt _yet."

Everybody goes still, Jolt and Bee almost glitching, Ironhide swift to his canons. From beside me, I hear the whispering of wings as they slide along metal, feel the clacking of claws upon my helm. Inwardly, I shudder.

"Hahha, oh, man, was I good or what? Found the smoke bombs in a closet. Broke the seal myself, which is no easy feat mind you. Oh, wow, that was so worth the looks on your faces." Dark laughter emanates from my left.

"What the Pit are you still doing here, creature?" Ironhide clips out, partially raising his canons, conflicted against wanting to fire, and knowing he would blow my shoulder, possibly my head, off.

"Oh, you didn't expect me to just do your dirty work and leave, did you?" Silence. "Oh, you_ did_. Well, hate to tell you boys, but I'm not finished yet. See," I am acutely aware of every step Dave takes across my back plates, sliding down between them, swinging between wires before appearing on my right side. "I just had_ so much fun_ here, and I got to thinking earlier, well, why not bring some of the fun downstairs, you know?" He's cut off by an angry yell.

"What the hell are you getting at?" Dave turns to watch Lennox stride forward, gun armed and ready, more likely to shoot than Ironhide.

"Well, human, simply that your Autobuddies here made me a promise, and I'm going to follow through with it." I cannot help the jerk that shudders through my body.

"We promised you nothing!" I vent loudly. But Dave only chuckles, patting the side of my helm.

"Course you did! You probably don't remember but when I first got here, you promised me I could have more fun in the long run. Well, here's the homestretch, and I ain't done yet," he finishes darkly, no longer laughing.

"Even if you have bad fight evil in the name of good, you can't dress up a donkey and call it a bride." Insanely, he crows. "Look, I won't kill any good guys and gals – their goody two shoe lives would just waltz strait up into Heaven anyways, and those guys don't need any more people filling their ranks. And I'm not gonna turn on you – _technically_ still bound by agreement to you losers. No, there are worse villains to enrapture me. So," suddenly, with a flash of wings, he takes off, hovering just out of reach, "hint, hint, Autobores, I'm leaving on my own terms. So just sit back, kick up your feet," quickly he dodges a few shots of Ironhide's cannons, before plummeting and landing heavily upon them, splintering them and causing Ironhide to roar in pain. "_Relax a little_, and, most importantly," once again, he takes off, "enjoy the show!" And then, he is gone, powerful wings taking him out of sight, but most certainly not out of mind.

"Fragging glitch! I'll kill him!" Ironhide spits out a string of Cybertronian curses as Ratchet attempts to stop the flow of Energon and shut off the still spinning canons.

"Prime!" I ignore the calls, both internal and external, optics fixated on the spot where Dave disappeared, horror gradually cascading through my systems.

"Dammit! Soldiers, I want everyone who can on the computers tracking any and all movement that could be the creature. The rest of you, I want you on the phones, at standby and calling other bases, letting them know we have a breach of security. You are not to mention the Autobots or the creature, but to let them know they need to contact us immediately if anything out of the ordinary happens. Move!" I barely register Lennox taking charge.

I have forgotten my men, where I am. All I know is that my rash actions and failure to clean them up has resulted in the beginning of even bigger bloodshed than ever before.

And the blame settles solely upon my shoulders.

* * *

Slowly, then gradually picking up speed over the week, reports fly in. First, it is just small occurrences. Men and women in solitary confinement mysteriously hanging themselves when no rope was previously available. Muggers, rapists, murderers, assaulters – disappearing overnight. Steadily crime rates go down as death tolls climb ever higher.

And then they come in from Iraq and Palestine, Gaza, African war states… Terrorists are found crudely strewn about in streets and hanging from lamp posts, nailed to walls or floating face down in stagnant ponds. Taliban, ISIS, Boko Haram and many, many more.

All week. And then the week turns into two. And those two, into a month, and then six, and then a year.

We are helpless to prevent any of it.

While many at first cheered on Dave's antics, his murdering spree, it soon became obvious nobody was exempt from his window shopping. If you had even one infraction upon your record, it was free game to him.

Eventually, the big bad guys dried out.

Guess who took their place.

Every day I forced myself to watch the news, to remember every innocent, forgivable victim's name. To remember it was I, Optimus Prime, protector of the innocent, fighter of freedom and peace, who unleashed this Hell demon upon the world.

I was, and still am, morally responsible for each and every death.

Sarah Dwillinger, 42, small town mom, DUI infraction from when she was 18. Deceased. She has (had) three children and four grandkids.

Thomas Winters, 23, Peace Corps worker, attacked a teenager who had been harassing his sister. Deceased. He was going to be married this fall.

Johnathan McAllister, 19, self-put in rehab, earlier in the year caught doing drugs. Deceased. He was going to clean up and be a father to his unborn daughter.

Angel Dunsty, 36, elementary school teacher, set former abusive ex-boyfriends house on fire. Deceased. She was pregnant with twins.

Every single one of them, I remember. I watched as their mutilated, bloody, pitiful corpses were found. One by one. No matter how sickening it got, no matter how much I wanted to offline and forget through recharge… I didn't. It was a sick show I felt I must watch until the finale.

If only to make sure Dave stuck to his word.

Then one day, it was over. There were the regular re-runs of former killings, newscasters sitting in interviews with police chiefs and military officers, but no new headline news.

The next day was just the same. And for an entire week, we saw neither hide nor hair of Dave.

* * *

**_December 24_****_th_****_, 11:48 p.m._**

**:Optimus: **slowly, hesitatingly, I struggle out of recharge, trying to grasp onto the wordless voice crawling through my processors.

** :Yes, Ironhide?:**

** :You're needed on the tarmac, my friend: **I bite back a flinch, slowly shaking my head from where I sit on my berth.

**:I should no longer be trusted to handle things at the moment, old friend, let you stand in my place for today:**

** :Prime, get out here before I go in and drag you out:**

** :Ironhide-:**

** :It's over, Prime. And you of all mechs need to see it through to the end: **The words are harsh but effective, and with a heavy sigh I manage to get to my feet and move forward.

It only takes three minutes for me to make it to the others, but it feels like a century in my wires. I do not look forward, instead watching where I walk.

"What has happened to our great Prime that he no longer can face his mistakes?" I pull up short, almost clattering to a halt, but manage to steadily raise my head instead of jerking it up in surprise as had been the initial move to do. I narrow my optics at the sight before me.

Slightly disheveled, but otherwise presentable, hovers Dave in his human form. I notice dried blood under his fingernails as he reaches down to pat invisible dust off his pants. He straightens and smiles at me, his teeth perhaps even more yellow than I remember. And his eyes… dark pits that make even black holes seem shallow, set too deep in his powdery white face.

In the end, I do not answer him, forcing him to speak again, and I notice his eyebrow twitch slightly. "Well, if I had known it would be this easy to break you, I'd have done it a long time ago," he jibs, still trying to get a rise out of me. I feel many human eyes upon me and my armor burns.

"I have made many grave mistakes this past year, but it does not mean I cannot face them. The human capacity for forgiveness is rivaled only by their capacity to love," I finally state, believing in it with only half my spark.

"And what of the Cybertronian's capacity? Does it not exist?"

"Our Prime acted as any of us would have," Ratchet snaps, his shoulders held high and stiff.

"It is not his fault the only cure available was poison." I am surprised at who speaks, turning my head slightly to watch as they easily climb the catwalk. "If you're trying to turn us against Prime, you're gonna have to do more than lay your actions on him. He never really did have control over you, did he? You gave him a fake chain and played on his anger." Lennox lightly rests his hands on the railing, but clenches them soon after. I hear several murmurs of confirmation.

"Look, the big guy made a mistake. But the fallout was your own damn doing. You lied and told us _all _we could send you back. If we had known we couldn't we woulda left your ass back in that damn trap," Epps shouts from his leaning position against the computer consoles. Dave does not laugh; instead, his wings give an extra heavy flap, pushing him up and back.

"_Time for you – to beam – on home – demon," _Bumblebee too steps in, swiftly fragmenting together a sentence. Ironhide whirls his canons and Ratchet subspaces a wrench while Jolt sends a frightening amount of electricity through his now extended whips.

Dave growls, his gloating obviously having backfired. "Well, Prime, it seems you've got quite the support group here-"

"Hardly," I clip, causing many people to frown at me in confusion. "They do not support me, they do not condone what I have done – and neither do I." I feel myself straightening, my old joints creaking at the effort, but I still manage to raise my head once more to its correct height. "However, as I have told you once before, _demon-"_ Dave hisses, but I continue, "the human capacity for forgiveness is only rivaled by their capacity for love. And we Cybertronians understand mistakes – we have made many in the effort to end the war. We, too, have great capacity for compassion. You are nothing more than a glitch in the plan."

Suddenly, there's a shudder as my Autobots converge upon Dave, weapons brandished, fully intent on sending him home in a casket.

With a flash of his eyes, and a snap of wings, he's gone. No smoke, no grand earthquake or light show. One second he is hovering, and the next, nothing but the faint smell of sulfur marks his place.

The Autobots barely manage from electrocuting and shooting one another, and I myself am shocked at the lack of theatrics.

"I think you threw off his rhythm, big man," Epps softly quips behind me.

"Or perhaps he knew his demonic aft was about to get kicked," comes the gruffer, almost smug reply.

"Whatever the case," I manage, "he is gone."

"Good riddance," Lennox sighs, and I cannot help but nod.

"May this be a lesson to us all – never rely on the enemy of your enemy being your friend."

"Well said, Optimus. Well said."

As I stand there, my optics turning towards the night sky just outside the windows, I see snow fall, the stars and moon barely visible behind it.

**:Even through a current of white, we know there are stars to guide the way: **I muse, causing a few laughs.

**:You always were one for axioms, Prime:**

Finally, I allow a smile to tug at my face plates.

The fight is finally over.

**I always have such trouble ending things like this. I know Optimus would never resort to something so drastic (or ridiculous) if the 'Cons did something as terrible as offlining thousands of sparklings. Orrr… maybe he would. It very well could be the straw that breaks the camel's back. So, here's my take on it. It's pretty OOC, but I really wanted to write it out, see where it would go. (Can you tell I haven't written in a while?)**

**At first, Dave was going to be a sassy demon, but I just couldn't write him like that. So I sorta found a median between insanity and one-mindedness. Anywho! Any and all reviews are welcome! Let me know what you think, any pointers, good/bad, etc. Every little tip counts (and boosts the ego). If you liked this, keep an eye out for some more up and coming fiction RE: Transformers. Thanks for reading!**


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